


and then there was one

by ribbonelle



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Gen, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 14:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3854491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ribbonelle/pseuds/ribbonelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>perhaps it had been an error in judgement. perhaps he had been stupid enough to hope for something like that. it didn't matter now, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and then there was one

**Author's Note:**

> set after s3. a lot of made up flashbacks and monologues, i call it character study because i really just wanted to write lockdown. its not even really a study, thats too fancy a word to use. the tag 'unrequited crush' isnt quite correct, too. but it was the closest thing i could use for a description. 
> 
> a lot of references to ‘’a fistful of energon’ and ‘five servos of doom’. i purposely wrote all of this in low caps bc idk. its fun sometimes. it has that mood. this is angsty, and weird but i had a lot of fun writing it and ahaha okay sorry bye

he heard of it when he was flying into the airspace of xeptos, right along the orbiting asteroid belt, about to enter the atmosphere. he had tuned into one of cybertron’s main frequencies, heard about it on the radio. a mournful statement by the usually chipper host, and lockdown’s first thought was, “i gotta go see this.”

why he wanted to, he didn’t know. but xeptos wasn’t too far from cybertron. wasn’t too close either. (part of the quintesson pan galactic co-prosperity sphere; we invade, we cluster, we prosper). he could make the journey in the cybertronian equivalent of a day and a half, though he’d have to cancel the hunt he was on. he had chased the slagger for a while now;  it didn’t matter. he had been doing it for the sport. he had enough credits to last him for a while.

swerving out of the airspace, lockdown glanced back at his mod collection. he had bought some new ones too; they weren’t so expensive, but not all of them were for him. he had been hoping for things to end. he had been ready to make an offer.

didn’t matter now, either.

lockdown steered his ship to head towards cybertron, put it on autopilot, and went into recharge.

//

“generosity,” yoketron had said, once upon a time, “that matters, my student. to become a true cyberninja, you must first be at peace with the fact that you are to give much more than you are to take. greed will bring you to ruin. by giving the universe what it demands of you, you will be one with it. remember, lockdown. processor over matter, in everything.”

he had not been able to stop staring at how the light glinted off the sharp edges of yoketron’s helmet, “yes, master. if you say so.”

yoketron was troubled even then. he’d place a palm over lockdown’s chest, concern almost a tangible thing from him, “you have a long way to go, lockdown. you are mastering the art of defense and your forms are near flawless. but i sense a darkness in you. you must overcome it to truly embrace what it is to be a cyberninja.”

“i will try my hardest, master,” lockdown had promised, “i will make you proud.”

and he had tried, a little. perhaps his time under yoketron’s care had been his huge break; he had to make a choice that would eventually determine the kind of life he would lead. yoketron had told him about the protoforms by then, and had expressed a desire for lockdown to achieve a state where he’d be able to be the new protector of the sanctuary. perhaps, yoketron had grown impatient, somewhere along the line.

after failing to open the shrine door a few hundred times, (the entire ‘processor over matter’ thing was such drivel, anyway. if he wanted to wear mods, then he’d fraggin’ wear mods. mods made him feel powerful. he wasn’t going to sacrifice a few pleasures in life just for some zen nonsense, he wasn’t into all that—he hated it.) lockdown made a decision. screw the way of the cyberninja, those protoforms were _priceless_ , and he was done trying to turn into a mech he simply wasn’t. he liked how he was. he didn’t need to take yoketron’s shit.

“i should have predicted this,” yoketron had said then, one limb of his back kibble broken off, the left side of his frame rendered temporarily useless; that weapons’ guy had some good stuff on him; “i made myself excuse the growing darkness in you, lockdown. i had hoped for a change, but i was wrong. how could you do this? do you have no honor?”

oh, like mechs didn’t just get by fine without trivial things like _honor,_ “probably not. a mech’s gotta do what a mech’s gotta do to survive, master. we don’t all live in a self-righteous world like you do.”

but things weren’t so good back then. half paralyzed and in pain, yoketron fought back pretty well. too well, actually, and lockdown had to flee the scene before he truly messed himself up. it had stung a little, back then. but lockdown was young, things like that bothered him more than it did now. he remembered his anger, cursing yoketron as he absconded to a ship he had set up. he had always been good at planning, though. he knew what he wanted and how to get it. _yoketron_ might not think he was good enough, but he was. he was better than all of that ‘processor over matter’ shtick.

and when he finally killed yoketron, a few years later, it was the single most satisfying experience in his life.

//

he docked his ship on a small, dead star, quaintly named lucida mortuum. there were only a few people in the sole bar, organic and mechanoid; a couple of a’ovans and a NAIL. the NAIL brightened up so obviously when lockdown walked in, lockdown just had to smirk a little. always nice to light up someone’s day.

“oh wow,” the little grey thing had said almost breathlessly, right away pulling a seat next to lockdown, “i’m sorry for bothering you. i can leave if you don’t want company. but it has been a while since i met a cybertronian, and i kinda miss home.”

his altmode was probably something cute and speedy, he had tires on his shoulders and curves that seemed to be aerodynamic. his excitement made his optics look too bright, and it was either he truly had not seen a mechanism for a while, or he was out for lockdown’s credits. being wary had always served lockdown in the past.

“nah, stay. i could use a drinking partner.”

the smile the mech flashed was disarming. he lifted a hand to catch the barkeep’s attention, and turned right back to lockdown, “i’m asphalt. call me asp. you got a name, stranger?”

he considered lying, decided that it didn’t matter, “lockdown.”

“nice to meet you. your mods are so fancy, by the way. they look awesome,” a white hand reached up and hovered over one of lockdown’s shoulder spikes, “can i touch?”

“you gonna pay me after?”

asphalt spluttered, and lockdown had to chuckle, “i’m just kidding. go ahead.”

a flash of another smile, and asphalt tapped a finger over the spike’s tip. he seemed surprised that it was actually sharp, “cool. i never got into mods when they were blowing up back on cybertron, but i can see the appeal.” the barkeep returned with drinks; obviously diluted, but can’t really blame the guy, who even stopped to drink here?; and lockdown downed his glass in one go.

the mech was still poking at lockdown’s frame, and laughed suddenly, “are you trying to drown your grief with the booze, or something?”

lockdown glanced at him. he wanted to brush the comment off, but it seemed to hit too close to home. he wasn’t grieving. but he supposed it’s the close he had ever come to it. asphalt’s optics were still too bright. he finally figured out why; it wasn’t simply excitement.

“i guess you could say that,” the barkeep refilled his glass, and he downed it again.

“let me guess,” asphalt lifted his own glass and swirled its contents, “you lost something. money? a person? a ship? yourself?” he laughed, tipping the glass to his lip components. he took a few gulps, and set his drink down on the table, “it’s okay. i can make you feel better.”

“can you now?”

“yes. definitely.”

“care to tell me how?”

asphalt swivelled on his stool, his tone matter-of-fact, “boosters. best thing in the multiverse.” he laughed, like he had just told a joke, “wanna get high with me? it’ll be easier, after. you might not even remember what made you feel bad in the first place.”

lockdown chuckled, “that’s true. tempting offer, kid. but forgetting isn’t really on my agenda. thanks, though.”

“well, your loss. it’s really good stuff,” the mech shrugged, but smiled still. he shifted to place his arms on the bar counter, and rested his helm in them, looking at lockdown with an almost wistful smile on his face. he sighed quietly, “oh, lockdown.”

lockdown raised an optic ridge at the sudden change in asphalt’s behaviour. but he was as high as a kite, lockdown knew to not expect much, “hm?”

“the person you lost really meant something to you, didn’t they?”

//

the best thing about the entire thing was? the _best_ thing? it wasn’t lockdown who came up with the idea. he wasn’t the one who smiled a little crooked smile, wasn’t the mech who put a hand out in blatant offering. he didn’t say “partners?”, asking for something that he probably didn’t understand. the idea hadn’t even crossed lockdown’s processor. he had never thought of taking on a partner; he was competent enough on his own. it wasn’t him who started it. it wasn’t he who _propositioned._

he had been pretty offended. the mech just stole into his ship and said things he probably didn’t mean, and lockdown should have just shot him on the spot. lockdown didn’t.

they had worked together. they were unsurprisingly compatible, and the way things went had made lockdown entertain the idea; of being partners, of going around, just the two of them, kicking aft; and then lockdown had tried his hand at suggesting a partnership. only to be rejected.

“that’s very flattering,”  the slagger had said, “do not contact me again.”

the whole thing was amazing, really. lockdown was doing fine on his own, perfectly happy living the way he had been, when that proud, good for nothing _glitch_ planted the idea of being partners into his head, only to act like a complete afthole when it was lockdown who made the offer. it was infuriating. it was unfair.

it was worse when lockdown couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“what’s gotten into ya?” he had asked, when they were on their way to catch starscream. fragger had been examining the helmet lockdown had loaned him, had seemed to be impressed and perplexed at the same time, even a little sad. “this doesn’t seem like your style. collaborating with the enemy? it’s weird.”

his smile was even sadder, “haven’t been myself for a while now. it doesn’t matter.”

it truly didn’t matter, not when they had landed and were on the road, driving alongside each other (like it had _meant_ something), but then lockdown met him again, and then he understood.

the thing about being one with the universe and its elements, and all that crud, was that you had to give yourself up wholly. doesn’t matter who or what you were before your training, you’re not that mech anymore. you’re a whole new person. new and improved, like a brand new tool. sure, it did wonders for your psyche and your frame and your overall status in the society, but well, it wasn’t for lockdown. he knew who he was. he was a fiend, and he was good at being one.

that glitch was good at being a true cyberninja, it was probably his calling. but it still had to feel a little off, killing his previous self like that, turning so pliant and flexible just so he could mold himself into the perfect warrior. it was sort of pathetic.

he had offered himself to lockdown. and now lockdown couldn’t have him.

he had probably really wanted to kill lockdown, that second time they met. it had filled lockdown with a sort of malicious glee. the cyberninja that failed to protect yoketron. if it wasn’t fate, then lockdown didn’t know what fate was. he had never met a bigger hypocrite. and lockdown had dealt with a lot of mechs, real fragged up aftholes, but no one lied to themselves as much as that ninja did. had donned their old master’s armor, preaching about how it was the mech who made the difference, not the mods. sure.

he got the whole ‘processor over matter’ thing in the end, too. he pulled it off flawlessly. lockdown hated him _intensely_ in that single moment, aft on the ground, rubble floating all around them as _he_ stood in the middle of it all, powerful. lockdown had felt a little slighted, then. partners were equal, weren’t they? it hadn’t seemed so, at the time.

yoketron would have been proud.

lockdown knew when to retreat. so he did exactly that, certain that it wouldn’t be the last time they’d meet. it had seemed logical, before. too many things tied the two of them together. they were bound to run into each other once again.

lockdown had been wrong.

//

autobot security was getting really lousy. perhaps it was because they had captured megatron and his high-ranking followers, so they thought they could take it easy. obviously the new magnus knew nothing about how war worked, but it wasn’t lockdown’s problem. he had given up on the people who ran cybertron millennia ago.

there were two guards on duty in the tombs of the heroes. graverobbers weren’t unheard of, so lockdown had been expecting tighter surveillance, but apparently that wasn’t the case. two hits with the stasis suspension ray, and the guards were out. easy.

it wasn’t difficult finding who he had came for, too. there were multiple plaques on the wall; names of the mechanisms who had fallen for the planet, or at least the ones that apparently mattered; and the newest still shone brilliantly. lockdown touched the metal, before pulling at the handle underneath it, sliding the casket out from its place inside the wall. cybertronians paid respect this way, by exposing the frame countless times. no peace was given to the dead.

he flicked the clasp open, and lifted the lid. and there he was, gray and offline.

“prowl,” lockdown hummed, amused that the mech still had yoketron’s helmet on, rendering it useless. seemed like a selfish act, in all honesty, “couldn’t believe it till i saw it myself.”

 dead and gone. wasted potential.

“wonder if you expected this,” lockdown folded his arms on the side of the casket, resting his head on them, “the good guys die young, ain’t that the saying? you wanted to be a good guy, didn’t you? good to know you got what you wished for, kid.”

prowl seemed serene in death. truly serene, lockdown had remembered prowl trying his best to come off as calm. he succeeded in fooling a lot of people, but not lockdown. he knew better.

sudden anger made his spark lurch, a little, made him grit his teeth, “it could have been so good, you slagger. you wouldn’t be dead if you were with me. i wouldn’t have allowed it. sure you’re a hero, but you ain’t here to be one anymore. what’s the fraggin’ point?!”

his voice echoed in the building. there was no answer. lockdown couldn’t help but chuckle bitterly after his little outburst, though, everything just seemed so pathetic. prowl had been stupider than he expected. and lockdown wasn’t as unaffected as he thought. it didn’t matter.

he wanted to take something from prowl. a trophy, a souvenir. whatever. if he had it his way, he’d bring back prowl’s entire frame back to his ship, melt the mech down and shape him into something lockdown could bring around. something he’d wear forever. but that was too sentimental, and lockdown didn’t do sentimental.

lockdown contemplated things a while, and reached into his subspace to retrieve a small laser knife. reaching in, he activated the device and slowly cut two straight lines on either side of prowl’s visor, then removed the glass. prowl’s optics were closed. he didn’t look any different.

the visor was light in his hand; he’d have to make modifications later. or he could do nothing at all, simply add it to his collection. a reminder. lockdown palmed it, and stashed it away. he tilted his head, watching prowl’s face, “will you haunt me for taking that? i hope you do.”

prowl remained silent. dead and gone. lockdown took the sight of him in one last time, and moved away from the casket. he closed the lid and pushed it back into the wall. the presence of the little piece of glass in his subspace seemed profound.

it was over. whatever it had been, it was done with. he’d just have to resell the mods he bought. keep them. whatever, it wouldn’t make a difference. he could deal with not ever having a partner, that had been his plan from the beginning.

then prowl happened, but prowl was no more. it was fine.

and as always, lockdown left, unscathed and safe, and he was the one who had survived. he’d always survive. 


End file.
